


The Simple Matter Of Mr. Fairdale Hobbs

by Cerdic519



Series: Further Adventures Of Mr. Sherlock Holmes [88]
Category: Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Edwardian, Bullying, Embarrassment, Engineering, F/M, Justice, M/M, Royalty, Slow Burn, Trains, Untold Cases of Sherlock Holmes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-24
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:47:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,041
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cerdic519/pseuds/Cerdic519
Summary: Undoubtedly the largest object that Sherlock was ever called upon to find – and a strong contender for the most obnoxious client as well!





	The Simple Matter Of Mr. Fairdale Hobbs

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spnscience](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnscience/gifts).



_Introduction by Sir Sherrinford Holmes, Baronet_

There are certain things in this world that do not go together. Honesty and politicians. Chips and that vile brown ketchup. Magenta and anything (yes Kean, I _am_ referring to the horror that you for some reason call a suit!). And finally, my brother Sherlock and that thing called modesty. He originally dismissed his case with Mr. Fairdale Hobbs as being 'a simple matter', but was far from simple – at fifty-six tons this was undoubtedly the largest object that my brother was ever called upon to find, the man making the request apparently expecting him to make it reappear as if by magic. Which of course Sherlock did.

A certain muscled behemoth's suggestion that this story be re-titled 'Grand Theft Loco' was _not_ appreciated. I _still_ hate that suit, although the matching thing that he has since acquired.... I suppose I might be persuaded over that.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

_Narration by Doctor John Hamish Watson, M.D._

This case occurred only a few short weeks after the conclusion to the Abrahams killing, which had been brought to our attention by the judge's cleaner Mrs. Minton. As I said back then, Holmes was far more inclined to accept cases from the likes of that lady than from those upstart jackanapes who demanded his attentions as if they had some God-given right to them. Which neatly brings me to the unpleasant lump of humanity which was currently befouling our rooms in 221B, to wit one Mr. Jehosaphat Jones.

Mr. Jones was a director of the Great Eastern Railway Company, and looked decidedly ill at ease in our Baker Street home. He was about fifty, overweight, very well-to-do and (in my opinion) with far too high an opinion of himself, as if he was lowering his standards to seek help from my friend. The way he looked almost pityingly around the room made me quietly seethe. 

“I do not understand it, Mr. Holmes”, our unwelcome visitor whined, patting his forehead with a handkerchief, clearly still recovering from the monumental effort of our stairs. “I mean, a fifty-six ton railway locomotive? And now of all times!”

“You had better calm yourself”, Sherlock said placidly, “and start at the beginning. Once we know _all_ the facts, we _may_ be able to help you.”

I was slightly vexed that the director gave me a look which said quite clearly that he did not expect me to be of any help but fortunately he did not voice that thought, probably because he caught Holmes looking sharply at him. He coughed, and began his tale.

“Our company was formed by an 1862 Act of Parliament which combined several smaller and barely profitable railways companies in East Anglia”, he said. We have grown massively since” (like your waistline, I thought cattily), “and as I am sure you are aware operate out of Liverpool Street Station. Our main engineering works is at Stratford in Essex, and it is there that we seem to have 'lost' an entire railway locomotive!” 

“Following the sad passing of Her Majesty earlier this year, we were most delighted when it was announced that King Edward would be using our railway to travel from London to the city of Chelmsford where he will be opening a museum to the Roman Occupation”, our visitor said. “The trip is due to take place in two days' time, and whilst I fully expect it to still go ahead it would be mortifying for our good name if this story were to come out. As it is, I am frankly amazed that the press has not got wind of it yet.”

Despite my dislike of the fellow I could not but agree with him on that point. There were few secrets in London that our city's journalists would not ferret out once they got the slightest hint of it. And the fact this had happened at the works with its hundreds of employees meant that this story must have been known to many of them; that no-one had talked was frankly amazing. He saw my astonishment and nodded.

“I should say at the start that relations between the company and the men at the works have been.... somewhat difficult as of late”, he admitted. “Earlier this year they actually went on strike for _more money!_ An outrageous demand I am sure you will agree, but it was made worse when the managers at the works actually sided with them! I was shocked I tell you; quite, quite shocked! Fortunately our differences were resolved, although there was a lot of bad feeling as a result. In the light of such unreasonable behaviour, I would fully have expected at least one of them to have gone to the press in order to hasten our discomfiture.”

“I remember the story”, I said, possibly a little too pleased at what I was about to say. “Did not you and the other directors vote yourselves exceedingly generous bonuses whilst the matter was still being resolved?”

He gave me a withering look which I returned with interest.

“Mr. Jones!” Holmes said, more than a hint of exasperation in his voice.

“I am sorry, I am rambling”, the director said. He drew a deep breath and resumed his tale.

“Our royal coach is kept at Liverpool Street, and it was decided to assign engine number 1896 for the royal trip. She is one of our S46 class, commonly known as the 'Claud Hamiltons' after the first which itself was named for our illustrious chairman. We do not as a rule name our locomotives, but because of the great achievement of one of the then-Prince of Wales' race-horses in winning both the Derby and St. Leger in the year of her number, she was named _“Persimmon”_ after the beast.”

“Yesterday morning _“Persimmon”_ was scheduled to do a test run up to Liverpool Street in order to make sure that there was no problem with either her or fitting her to the royal coach, after which she would then return to Stratford Works. One cannot be too careful when one is carrying royalty, as I am sure you gentlemen appreciate. She left the works just after six a.m. She should have passed Coborn Road Station, which is barely two miles away, ten minutes later at most, yet she never reached it. When the slow train that was following her went through, the Coborn signalman telegraphed his colleague at Stratford to ask where the light locomotive that he had been told to expect was. The works was informed and a search was initiated at once.”

“What about the driver and fireman?” Holmes asked. Mr. Jones groaned.

“A special crew, Mr. Charles Sanderson and Mr. Sidney Hever, were allocated to drive her”, our guest said. “They were found bound and gagged in a small back room at the works. They had not seen their attackers, who had jumped them and knocked them out as they came in to get changed. She was all fired up and ready to go and whoever took her knew exactly what they were doing. An inside job for sure.”

“But they cannot just make a whole locomotive disappear!” I objected. “What about branch lines?”

He looked at me pityingly, and I really wanted to hit him. 

“The doctor makes a good point”, Holmes said, and I could see that even his patience was wearing thin. “Please answer his question.”

“We know that she could not have gone east”, Mr. Jones said testily, “because she would have had to pass through Stratford station and there was a local passenger train on the line she would have used. West there is only one branch-line down which she could have passed, a connecting line to Fenchurch Street with a station barely half a mile along, Bow Road. The points to that line are controlled from a ground-box because it is so rarely used; we had it checked but it does not appear to have been tampered with. The Bow Road signalman said that no light engine had passed his box. However, one of the works men was walking by the line on his way to the works, and he _claims_ that he saw smoke from a train heading towards London on the main line.”

“It could be that someone was lying”, I muttered, eager to add to our unpleasant guest's discomfiture. I got a glare for my pains.

Holmes pressed his long fingers together. I knew that look; he knew something and was deliberating whether or not to say something. I silently cheered for 'not'.

“I am interested in this locomotive”, he said eventually. “How many others are there of the same class?”

Mr. Jones seemed surprised at the question. 

“That is difficult to say”, he said. “Apart from the original locomotive which is slightly different in appearance because of its status, the rest of the class is being built in batches of ten at a time, with minor improvements along the way. There are some seventeen locomotives similar in appearance to _“Persimmon”_ , but we checked them all as a matter of course. Only two were in the vicinity at the time; 1881 was in the works for a minor repair and 1888 was just finishing its final trials before entering service.”

“Does your company paint the names on its engines, or does it use name-plates?”

“Sir!”

I could see from Holmes' face that he was now genuinely annoyed. Clearly our guest had got the same message and quickly answered his question.

“The few names that we have are painted”, he said, “but for this engine we had special name-plates cast with a small picture of the race-horse. They were affixed to the smoke-box. Do you think.....?”

“I do not _think_ ”, Holmes said abruptly. “I prefer to _know_. This is a most intriguing case, Mr. Jones. However, I do foresee certain problems in restoring your locomotive to you.”

“Can you help us, sir?” the director asked.

“No. At least, not yet.”

I jumped. I had not been expecting that. And clearly, neither had Mr. Jones.

“Mr. Holmes!”

“There is of course the unlikely possibility that I am wrong”, my friend said, “but I doubt that very much. In view of the obvious facts of the case, I may not be able to restore your locomotive for some time. I cannot say how long, but I shall telegraph you to arrange a meeting soon – possibly within a week or so - and we shall see what we shall see. You had better assign another engine to the Royal Train.”

I could see that our guest was far from happy at this, but he made his farewells and left. I stared at Holmes in surprise.

“I did not like the man's attitude”, Holmes said shortly. “His treatment of you was shabby, and he seems to think himself better than us. I am fairly sure that I know what happened to this locomotive – there is only one real possibility – but I see no reason to spare such an unpleasant man a large dose of embarrassment, especially as the story will be in all the papers tomorrow. If not this evening.”

“How do you know that?” I demanded. It may have been obvious to him, but I could not see how a whole railway locomotive could just vanish into thin air. He chuckled.

“I am walking down to the post office to send a telegram”, he said. “Do you wish me to post your letter to the bank?”

“Yes, please”, I said, still musing about what he had said. It all seemed quite impossible; even if one signalman had lied then another further along would have admitted the truth. Unless they were all in on it?

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

Holmes was back in less than half an hour, and we spent a quiet afternoon in. When the evening paper came up he read it quickly, smiled, and passed it over to me. I read the headline and tried to resist a temptation to scowl. Unsuccessfully.

“All right”, I grumbled. “'Mysterious Disappearance of Royal Locomotive'. 'Great Eastern Railway directors flummoxed'. 'England's Own Vortex To Another Dimension?'”

“I think the copy-writers may have been partaking of what they call a liquid luncheon”, Holmes smiled. “Doubtless Mr. Jones is hitting the roof just now. The publicity will be appalling.”

“I wonder that the story did not leak out sooner”, I said. 

“It is more damaging this way”, Holmes said. “It will still be headline news tomorrow, then the King's visit will keep it there.”

I looked at him in surprise.

“It was leaked deliberately?” I asked.

“Of course”, he said. “And the man behind it is due here first thing tomorrow morning. If you can delay heading out for a couple of hours, I am sure you would be interested in meeting the person who made a whole locomotive disappear.”

“I most definitely would!” I said fervently.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

Just over twelve hours later I was sat in our main room, awaiting the arrival of the train thief. I do not know quite what I was expecting, but the man who came through the door punctually at eight o'clock in the morning was not it. He bowed to us both, looking decidedly nervous.

“Mr. Fairdale Hobbs, gentlemen”, he said.

“Pray be seated”, Holmes said courteously. “I promise that we will not detain you for too long. I know you have to be back at the works, but Mr. Jones has been informed that I have to ask you a few things regarding the disappearance of an entire steam railway locomotive, so your absence will be deemed acceptable in the circumstances.”

The man was in his forties, short, had receding hair and was generally unprepossessing. If this was what a master thief looked like, then he must also be a master of disguise. Holmes offered him a cup of tea, which he took with a hand that trembled notably.

“Mr. Hobbs is the works manager at Stratford”, Holmes explained to me. “And to those who consider engineering to be a form of magic, he is a most fine example. It is not many men who can make fifty-six tons of solid metal just disappear.”

The man blushed.

“You are too generous to trifle with me, sir”, he said to Holmes. “I trust from your message that you know all?”

He took a telegram out of his pocket and handed it to Holmes, who passed it over to me. I read it:

'Synergy. Holmes, 221B. 0800 tomorrow.'

“I do not understand”, I said. 

“Synergy is the theory that something can be greater than the sum of its parts”, Holmes explained. “And that is what this story is all about, is it not, Mr. Hobbs? _Parts.”_

Our guest blushed even more but stayed silent. 

“I shall tell the doctor what you did, for the record”, Holmes said, and he seemed strangely relaxed in the presence of someone who stood accused of such large-scale thievery. “This case really began with the pay and conditions dispute earlier in the year. A dispute that was handled very badly by Mr. Jones and his fellow directors, who denied you a pay rise whilst voting themselves huge bonuses in what is sad to say typical management behaviour these days.”

“They did”, our guest muttered. “They told us there was no money for a pay rise, then voted themselves one whilst we were still talking. It caused a load of bad feeling at the works.”

“In so doing, they managed to unite the whole of the works against them”, Holmes said. “That was important as just one person could have blown this plot wide open. But you were united against greedy managers, and determined to teach them a lesson. And the new King's decision to use the Great Eastern Railway to visit Chelmsford gave you the perfect opportunity so to do. I must say that you planned it exceptionally well, and that had I considered you to be of a criminal persuasion, we would be undertaking this interview in the presence of my good friend Inspector Lestrade.”

Our guest shuddered.

“ _“Persimmon”_ is taken in the day before and completely disassembled. The parts that constituted her are stored under false numbers, possibly to be used over time in the construction of other members of the class.”

Mr. Hobbs nodded.

“We were going to split them between the next few engines in the class”, he admitted. 

“That also shows premeditation”, Holmes said. “Some considerable time passed between the dispute being resolved and the dismantling, and during that time spaces were slowly added to the parts list to accommodate a complete locomotive. It helped that the Great Eastern Railway was almost always in the process of absorbing a number of smaller companies and that their stock was as a result relocated to Stratford; such things will always add an element of confusion. By the time of its disappearance, _“Persimmon”_ was that scientific impossibility; an object – a fifty-six ton object, no less - that existed in two places. A complete locomotive on the tracks, and the sum of its parts in the store.”

“Mr. Sanderson and Mr. Hever then most nobly played their part”, he continued, “each taking a blow to the head and allowing themselves to be tied up. I dare say that if the police were ever to question the men at the works, a second one would have 'remembered' seeing 'a distant light engine' heading down the line towards London. In reality, of course, the engine was still in the works. In pieces.”

Our visitor nodded, and sighed.

“I presume that you will tell Mr. Jones?” he said resignedly.

Holmes sat back.

“Mr. Jones merely asked me to restore his engine to him”, he said, “and I did warn him there might be problems with that. Mr. Hobbs, I have a hypothetical question for you. It took one night to completely disassemble a Class S46 locomotive, which feat I find most impressive. How long would it take to _re-_ assemble one from the same pieces?”

The man looked at him in shock, hope in his eyes.

“It.... it could be done in twenty-four hours, sir”, he said warily. “All the pieces are in store, many kept fitted together.”

Holmes smiled.

“I shall send Mr. Jones a telegram asking him to meet us at the works in four days' time”, he said. “Who knows what we will find if we walk round some of the rarely-used sidings there?”

He looked meaningfully at our guest, who seemed on the verge of tears.

“Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!”

“Perhaps you might thank Mr. Jones”, Holmes observed with a smile. “Had he not been so completely insufferable when he requested my help, I might have been less lenient. I do hope that I shall receive a telegram from you sometime soon, sir. The word 'complete' should suffice.”

The man looked as if he could not believe his luck. He shook both our hands and almost ran from the room.

“That was very generous of you”, I said. 

“No real theft took place”, he pointed out. “The parts would all have remained the property of the company, who would have had unwittingly used them in future locomotives. And I must say that I do look forward to seeing Mr. Jones' face when he is reunited with his locomotive, although given his obviously unpleasant nature, I might take one or two little precautions first.”

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

It was four days later, and Mr. Jehoshaphat Jones was staring incredulously at the scene before him. We were in the carriage sidings at the Stratford works; himself, Holmes, myself, Mr. Hobbs and none other than Miss Day, who was once again wearing a set of overalls (fluorescent orange this time!) that I had thought might give Mr. Jones a seizure when he had first seen her. Mr. Hobbs had narrowly managed to hide his enjoyment of his director's discomfiture in a timely fit of coughing when we had all been introduced. I had made no such effort.

The reason for Mr. Jones' second shock of the day was what lay before him in the sidings. A polished express passenger locomotive, with the _“Persimmon”_ nameplates shining in the early afternoon sun. 

“This is impossible!” he snorted at last.

“You did ask that I restore your locomotive to you”, Holmes reminded him. “I have done so. My bill will be in the post.”

“But how?” the director demanded. “I must know how!”

I knew that Holmes always enjoyed these moments of revelation, though I saw Mr. Hobbs tense up out of the director's line of vision. Holmes looked thoughtfully at Mr. Jones.

“No”, he said quietly.

The director spluttered furiously.

“What do you mean, 'no'?” he demanded. “I employed you, and I _demand_ answers!”

I was reminded of a petulant child stamping his foot and demanding that he get his way. Some people do not change as they 'grow up'. Or out in this man's case.

“You employed me to locate your locomotive”, Holmes said dryly. “That was your only request. Had you required to be informed of the _whereabouts_ of said locomotive before, during and after His Majesty's recent trip to fair Essex, you should have specified as such. If there is nothing else we shall be leaving.”

“This is outrageous!” Mr. Jones stormed. He turned swiftly on Mr. Hobbs, who immediately took a step back from the larger man. “I know damn well that you and those scum who work for you are behind this, Hobbs. I'll sack one of you every day until I get to the truth. Starting with you!”

“I do not think so.”

I turned in surprise. It was Miss Day who had spoken. Mr. Jones blinked several times but managed to pull himself together.

“I do not know who _you_ are, madam”, he said haughtily, “but this is none of your business. A woman's place is in the home!”

He stepped towards her as he spoke, clearly expecting her to back away as Mr. Hobbs had done. To his and my surprise she stepped in and grinned knowingly at him. He visibly flinched.

“'Ely & Newmarket' ring any bells?” she said lightly.

I had no idea why, but the mention of those two places seemed to have a definite effect on Mr. Jones. He went very red and moved backwards so rapidly that he nearly toppled over.

“Miss Day is one of the most efficient people in London when it comes to finding out useful information”, Holmes said. “Her organization knows almost everything about almost everybody. After your first meeting with us Mr. Jones, I judged your character to be the sort that might pursue a vendetta against the people who work here, so I took the liberty of contacting her. It took her less than three hours to find the information that I required, and she felt compelled to apologize for the lengthy delay.”

“What information?” I asked. Miss Day grinned at me.

“When this pompous oaf's lot took over the Ely & Newmarket Railway Company three years back”, she said, “they did so by simply merging the shareholdings of the two companies. Not illegal in itself, except that several directors of the Great Eastern Railway, including this idiot, issued a press release to deny the takeover, then when the other railway's share price crashed they brought lots of shares cheaply. In the case of Mr. Jones here he made nearly two hundred pounds on the deal at no risk to himself.” She fixed her gaze on Mr. Jones, who quailed before her. “ _That_ , sir, is illegal under British law – and I have the documentation to prove your guilt!”

“I an inclined, Mr. Jones, advise you at this juncture that the doctor and I will be keeping in close contact with our new friends at the works”, Holmes said. “If there is any action taken against any of them, then Miss Day's findings will be sent to every newspaper in London. Followed swiftly, I suspect, by the police calling at your door. Have a good day!”

And with that he led the way out of the sidings, with myself and Miss Day hurrying after him.

۩۩۩۩E♔RI۩۩۩۩

**Author's Note:**

> The Great Eastern Railway's 121 4-4-0 'Claud Hamiltons' were one of the most important and successful classes of locomotives at the time and inspired several others from rival companies. They consisted of 41 class S46 locomotives including the original _“Claud Hamilton”_ , built 1900-1903, 70 class D56 locomotives built 1903-1911, and finally 10 class H88 locomotives built 1923; this last group were ordered by the G.E.R. but built by their successors the London & North Eastern Railway. The three classes were almost identical and under the L.N.E.R. they became classes D14, D15 and D16 respectively. Their success can be judged that 117 of the original 121 survived until the 1948 advent of the nationalized joke called British Railways who, despite the class' important role in steam locomotive history, failed to preserve a single one of them. ”Persimmon” was a name I added for this story (though the horse it was named after was real) but I later discovered that a preservation group is as of 2018 building a 'new' H88/D16 number 8783 which will bear the name “Phoenix”; this number, ironically enough, was chosen because in its day the original locomotive was assigned to pull the royal train. Sometimes life imitates art!


End file.
